


I found a home in the palm of your hands

by Happy_Toaster



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Rivals, Secrets, Smut, Snooker - AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Toaster/pseuds/Happy_Toaster
Summary: Jim and Bones are rivaling world-class snooker player and they hate each other's guts … well, at least that's what I had originally planned. Somehow this story got away from me and I'm not the least bit sorry about it.The fluffy Snooker-AU you never knew you wanted.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	I found a home in the palm of your hands

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm fairly new to this whole “fanfiction writing and then putting it online”-affair, mainly the “putting it online”-part is new.  
> Whatever, I hope you like this little brainchild of mine and it'll bring you some happiness in these troubling times. In case you don't know snooker, it's a version of billiards. I recommend you to watch some videos online, it's a really fascinating sport and I just really like the dress code. ;)
> 
> I'm sorry English isn't my mother tongue and my punctuation is probably all over the place, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone (aka no beta). Feel free to correct me or leave constructive criticism.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy.

  
  
  
God help him, he hates that kid.

  
Jim Kirk is a colossal pain in his ass whenever their paths happen to cross and, seeing as they're both professional snooker players alternately occupying the first and second place of the seasons ranking, they happen to cross paths _a lot_.  
  
  
Kirk is a notorious flirt, young, talented and shining bright like the sun. His style of play is a lot like his character - impulsive and bold - but playful at that. He takes shots no one would attempt and more often than not his bravery is paying off as he pots the ball successfully.  
  
  
In short, the kid is a fucking genius and it is frustratingly infuriating and mesmerizing all the same to watch him.  
  
  
It is e _specially annoying_ when he is leaning low, lying almost flat on the table to reach a ball and showing off his incredibly fine ass and firm thighs. Kirk is doing just that while playing against Sulu at the neighboring table. He is still clad in his formfitting, golden tournament waistcoat combined with a black shirt and equally black slacks, drawing a lot of attention in the bar from women and men, respectively, however most certainly not due to his misplaced attire.

  
Leonard growls disdainfully under his breath, choosing to concentrate on his own practice and if he pots the blue ball with a little more force than was strictly necessary – well – everyone, who notices, could gladly mind their own damn business.  
  
  
His training partner for this session raises a thoughtful eyebrow while remaining otherwise completely impassive.

  
“You seem to be especially energetic tonight, Doctor,” Spock comments as he's scanning the situation on the table intently.

  
“Don't call me that,” Len grunts, aiming for his next shot. Spock is another professional player, his every move calm and calculated to perfection. He is the best player in his realm of ability. His only problem is his tremendous lack of creativity and his aversion for taking risks …. well unnecessary risks if you asked Spock. Don't get him wrong, Spock was continuously under the best five players for the last three or four seasons and a tough opponent. But up against strong offensive players with the necessary mental strength, he would always be at a disadvantage. This doesn't mean his unparalleled precision for playing a safety or snooker isn't a total pain and could drive everyone nuts, including one James T. Kirk.  
  
  
Still, Spock is a bit of a stickler and just as much a pain in the ass as Kirk, but at least he is a formidable training partner, analyzing every move and mistake Leonard makes and pushing him to do better.

  
“Well, seeing as you _are_ a doctor, I think it is highly fitting.”

  
“So, you think that, don't you?” Leonard grumbles on, trying to keep his focus upright.

  
“Yes. I am rather curious as to why you quit your former profession and became a professional snooker player,” Spock continues undeterred.

  
“Spock, I actually have to concentrate here,” Leonard huffs and raises his gaze from the cue ball up to the other man.

  
“My apologies Leonard. I assumed with the current situation on the table you would be able to uphold a light conversation. I am sorry for distracting you, it was unintentionally unsporting.” Spock inclines his head slightly in apology and takes a step back from the table.

  
Well, actually Spock wasn't wrong. The ball-positions were rather standard, having a conversation was easily manageable without affecting his performance noticeably. But this was the polite way of telling Spock to shut the fuck up and Leonard could, contrary to popular opinion, and if he wanted to, be polite - _even_ to Spock.

  
Leonard manages a 86 points-break to win the match and decides to call it a day after that. Spock acquiesces easily and they each fetch themselves a drink, discussing and analyzing each other's frames.  
  
  
And if Leonard's gaze migrates to Kirk now and then, while they sit at the bar, at least Spock is polite enough not to mention it.  
  
  


****

  
Leonard McCoy wears a lot of different faces. During a match, he is a highly concentrated and efficient professional and during most of his interviews the well mannered southern gentleman. But everyone who knows him beyond this, only sees the cantankerous, sarcastic grump hating life and everything it entails. Leonard really has this particular role down to fine arts and with it has everyone fooled. Well, everyone except Jim Kirk.

  
Kirk had him figured out barely two weeks after they'd met for the first time. McCoy tries to cover his bone-deep hurt and nearly every other emotion by pushing everyone and everything away from him, avoiding more serious human connections out of fear of being hurt again. Therefore, Jim, had him dubbed Bone, to Leonard's endless frustration and Jim's great delight.  
  
  
But Jim knows just how much the other man cares and how deeply he feels. To a certain degree, it is rather amusing, really, seeing the man bicker with Spock or glaring at some poor reporter pestering him during his free time. One the other side it scrapes on something deeply emphatic inside him, making his own walls crumble around the other man and laying himself bare, which in return inadvertently grates on his nerves all the more.  
  
  
Watching Leonard McCoy reminded him of his own deeply rooted loneliness because, despite all those friends and acquaintances of his, he'd never found a place to call home, to really belong.  
  
  
And there is just another thing that really pisses him off, Leonard McCoy is an infuriatingly attractive man, with his long legs, slim waist, lush lips and the most amazing hazel eyes Jim's ever encountered. Sure, Jim knows about his own looks, too, and continuously uses them to whatever advantage he could get. But, while Jim is lean and shining, exotic with his azure-blue eyes, Bones exudes a darker, richer charm. He is someone a lot of people wanted, but either they didn't have the guts to confront him or Bones was plainly uninterested or just oblivious to his charm altogether. Whatever it was, it is a challenge to get close to him and Jim just isn't the kind of guy to back off a challenge.  
  
  


****

  
“Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the finals of the Coral World Grand Prix 2020. It's been an extraordinary tournament with quite a lot of surprises. Today will be a match best of 19 consisting of two sessions. Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome the striving new star, the man who defeated the tournament-favorite and home tour champion from 2019 Khan Noonien Singh, „ _The Captain”_ James T. Kirk.” The stadium announcer raises his voice, looking for applause. Jim puts on his winning smile and steps out of the small tunnel leading to the table. He waves and even throws some air-kisses. As soon as he is seated the man resumes his oration.

  
“The fearless captain is up against a tough opponent tonight. Two times World Champion and back from a sabbatical like a phoenix from the ashes, “ _The Doctor”_ Leonard McCoy.” Leonard passes through the same tunnel after Jim, hearing the crowd cheer a little and applause. He gives a small sheepish smile and raises a hand as a greeting, preferring to concentrate rather than delivering a show. Leonard moves to stow away his cue extensions before shaking hands with Jim and the referee.

  
Playing Kirk is always a little like fighting with claws and teeth, everyone gives their everything, not backing down even a little. Len knows, if he shows even the slightest weakness, Kirk will use it against him with ruthless precision. Well, good for him he was an experienced surgeon once, even though it seemed like a lifetime ago, his steady hands and ability to focus even under immense pressure remain.

  
“Let's have a good match, don't you think Bones.” Jim smiles rubbing his thumb over the back of Leonard's hand.

  
“Don't call me that,” Leonard growls and levels a subtle glare on Jim. The bastard only chuckles, releasing his hand and taking his seat, making room for Leonard to start their match.

  
Leonard grumbles under his breath and takes his cue, chalking the tip and getting into position. This should be easy, standard, he had practiced and done this shot a thousand times at least, and still, this is different. These are the finals and he is playing no less than Jim Kirk. If he could deliver a good opening and shut Kirk out from the start he had good chances to win this match. Len draws a deep calming breath and leans down, taking aim at the cue ball. The soft _tock_ as cue and ball connect rings loud in the otherwise silent hall. The cue ball connects, as intended, with the outmost left red ball and the resulting impulse opens the group of red balls up a little bit. The altered angle after the impact, the right amount of speed and a little effet bring the cue ball back up via the side cushions, coming to rest precisely behind the green ball, both almost touching. It is perfect. Len hums pleased and steps away for Jim to take his shot.

  
Jim raises an appreciating eyebrow at Bones' opening. He knew the man is good, but fuck, this opening was precise like a scalpel. Bones isn't an easy challenge that's for sure, but Jim just smiles, an excited gleam in his eyes. This is going to be so much fun.

  
Jim takes his turn, having little to no other choice as to place the cue ball in the middle of the group of reds. He had no unobscured angle on any of the red balls and no chance to pot one of them anyway. So he takes an indirect shot and placed the cue ball inside the group of reds, directly toughing one of the balls, making a clean shot not impossible but at least a lot more difficult.

  
Well, at least this had been his plan. In fact, it was Jim's last shot in this frame as Leonard serves him with a 127 points century break, giving Jim _a lot of time_ to study Leonard's play _and_ gorgeous backside.

  
It's touch and go during their first session of the day. After eight frames both players had been able to sew up four frames, respectively. They delivered a great show, not giving anything away easily. But now, after eight frames and playtime of almost four and a half hours Leonard is tired as hell, not physically but mentally. They've got a two-hour break before the final session and Leonard is barely able to think straight enough to find his way from the table to the lounge. Damn, he desperately needs a shower, some food and something to take his mind off, not necessarily in this particular order.

  
He goes back to his hotel room, luckily just five minutes away from _The Centaur_ by taxi. He heads straight for the bathroom and quickly sheds out of his clothes to step into the spacious shower. Leonard turns on the water, not waiting until it is all heated up, knowing it wouldn't take long. He closes his eyes, supporting himself with his hands on the shower wall, his mind immediately evoking pictures of today's match.  
  
  
It had been a great match. Leonard felt got, his mind was clear and he played a brilliant match and he knew it. Still, Kirk managed to keep up with him. He could tell it wasn't an easy feat for Kirk either, but the knowledge that your opponent is fighting at his best and simultaneously pushing you forward is a heady feeling.  
  
  
The now hot water is coming down heavy on his neck, back and shoulders, easing the tension from his strained muscles. And with the relaxation of his body, his thoughts drifted away from the match so far, in a completely different direction. (Well, who was he trying to fool here? Not so much different regions at all.)  
  
  
He shudders involuntarily as his traitorous mind evokes the image of stunningly blue eyes dancing with mirth and a cocky smile. Warm, slightly callused hands sliding up his arms and shoulder, before sliding down again over his chest. He imagines the light scrape of fingernails on the soft skin over his hipbone and the teasingly hot breath against his neck, lips mere millimeters away from touching skin. Len whimpers and groans as his own hand wraps around is already fully erect cock. Shit, just how far is he gone to be this desperate? He sets a punishing pace, jerking himself roughly and twisting his hand just so whenever he reaches the head. His gut clenches and his legs shake dangerously as the insistent pull of his orgasm settles at the base of his spine.

  
“Dammit,” Leonard grunts increasingly frustrated.

  
Just since when wasn't his hand enough to get him off anymore? He tries and imagines it's another hand, maybe even a mouth. A maddening mouth with plump, red lips, slightly swollen and tightly warped around his dick, finally shutting up for just a minute. Leonard bits his lower lip and stifles a moan as he comes all over his hand and parts of the shower-wall. His hips twitch as he jerks himself trough the aftershock, only letting go as it becomes too much. His heartbeat is a deafening pounding in his ears and his legs feel like jelly.

  
This was a horrendously bad idea.

  
Leonard sighs and quickly cleans himself before the water goes completely cold. He steps out of the bathroom with a towel slung low around his hips and his hair still slightly damp. He slumps backward on the bed, half sprawling with little concern for grace and stares at the ceiling. It's weird, to say the least. While his skin is buzzing with residual adrenaline and anticipations, his mind slips into a comforting state of calm, leaving Leonard with an overall feeling of weightlessness. He baths in it for a moment, letting it settle and pull him under.  
  
  
Leonard blinks awake not twenty minutes later, as a quick glance at is phone confirms, feeling significantly refreshed. As he has still some time left he redresses himself in his tournament outfit, leaving the dark-blue waistcoat and bow tie off for now, and heads to _Ha_ _vanas Coffee_ down the street on his way to _The Centaur._ He orders a cup of much-needed coffee and a grilled sandwich, considering - just for a moment - to add one of those sinfully delicious Tiffins to his order because he can and he _will_ burn all the excess calories today one way or the other.

  
He finally arrives back at _The Centaur_ with thirty minutes to spare, using the remaining time until the second session to warm up again and do some training shots. It leaves him with a slightly uneasy feeling, that he fails to spot Kirk anywhere in the near vicinity.  
  


****

  
“Ladies and Gentlemen, let's start the second session of today's Coral World Grand Prix Finals 2020. The players are back at the table. The current score is four frames each. Let's see if this thriller will continue,” the stadium announcer welcomes them back. Kirk actually showed up with not more than ten minutes to spare, looking all pristine and well-rested. They shake hands and get down to business.

  
And, just as the announcer promised, it continued to be a freaking, nerve-racking thriller. Both men started off great. But in the end, the previous weeks had taken their toll on both of them. Mistakes and slip-ups occurred on both sides and they had to fight their way through frames 13 to 15 before Leonard caught himself gradually. He played an incredibly amazing 17th and 18th frame and beats Kirk with a final score if 10 to 8 frames.

  
Hours later he is still glowing with the elation. After shaking hands and taking pictures with some fans, he went out with Spock, Nyota and Scotty to celebrate. There was a lot of banter and even more laughter and fairly enough drinks involved. Scotty has to help him get back to his hotel room as they left the bar close to midnight. It wasn't like McCoy was overly drunk, but while his mind was fairly awake, buzzing with excitement and joy, his body was tired and a little uncoordinated.

  
“There we are, Len,” Scotty slurs a little bit, being fairly drunk himself, as he deposits Leonard at his hotel room door.

  
“Thanks, Scotty,” McCoy grins and waves his goodnight as he fumbles to get into his room. Scottys' own room is just at the other end of the floor, so he isn't really worried about the other man getting home safe. Regardless, he remains on the threshold, looking after the Scot until he has safely vanished into his own room. Only then he turns around and closes the door behind him.  
  
  
The room is dark and Leonard stumbles a frightening number of times as he carelessly shrugs out of his clothes until he is only in his boxer briefs. In the end, it isn't that long until he crawls into the bed and slips under the covers.

  
“Finally,” comes a sleep-thick mumble and Leonard can't contain his grin. “Took you long enough.”  
  
  
A warm and heavy arm settles around his waist, pulling him in close and pressing him chest to chest with an equally warm and solid body.  
  
  
“ 'M sorry. But you know the way Scotty can be sometimes,” he mumbles in return, snuggling in closer to the familiar body and tangling their legs together. Leonard brushes his nose against his lover's neck and presses an apologetic kiss to his collarbone.

  
“I'll make it up to you in the mornin', darlin'. Promise,” he drawls and sighs happily as strong fingers find their way to the back of his neck, and a kiss is pressed to the top of his head.

  
“I'll hold you to it.”

  
Leonard smiles contentedly and eventually drifts off into asleep.  
  
  


****  
  
  
Leonard slowly comes back to consciousness the next morning to find a heavy weight pinning his legs to the mattress and an insistent pull in his groin. He groans hoarsely and presses the heels of his hands to his tired eyes. He stretches his spine and he absolutely doesn't squeak as his pubis accidentally and unexpectedly bumps into something soft, no sir.  
  
There is a muffles chuckle, the vibration of it running up his spine, and makes his toes curl and breath catch.

  
“Good morning, Bones,” Jim grins up at him from under the covers, like the goddamn cat that got the canary. His spit slick, red lips are pulled into a wide grin as he rests his cheek against Lens' hipbone.

  
“Dammit Jim,” Bones growls breathlessly. He tries to glare down at Jim, but the usual intensity falls flat due to the impressive blush spreading over his cheeks and the heat in his eyes.

  
“That's no way to address your loving and devoted boyfriend waking you with a fabulous blowjob.” Jim, the bastard, pouts dramatically and crawls back up along Bones' body, catching his lips in a hungry kiss and licking into his mouth insistently. Bones moans into the kiss, hands instantly coming up to grasp at Jims' waist, drawing him closer. He rolls his hips up, sliding their cocks together and eliciting a throaty moan from Jim.

  
“Bastard,” Jim mumbles against Bones' lips, to which Bones just grins.

  
He does it again, relishing the smooth slide and heady sensation. Bones peppers Jims' jaw and neck with kisses, bits and licks, cataloging every little twitch in Jims' muscles, every hitch in his breath and every moan. Jim stretches a little and reaches up over Lens' head. He produces a bottle of lube from apparently thin air and Bones can't suppress a bubble of laughter.

  
“I see you came prepared.”

  
Jim captures his lips in a deep kiss, trying to convey everything he isn't yet ready to say out loud. And Leonard understands, always does, because that's how they work. Their ragged edges fit together and add up to one beautifully whole picture. They know their own hang-ups just as good as the other ones' and even if not everything is said, there is a mutual understanding deeper than most words are able to reach.

  
Len tries to give as good as he gets, while Jim slicks up his fingers and presses them to his own hole. He moans into their kiss as the first finger breaches his entrance. Bones' hands glide to Jims' ass, splaying his cheeks a little for better excess. It's not long before Jim adds a second and third finger, having long learned, that a thorough preparation gets him faster to his goal than skipping ahead.

  
To watch Jim tremble and writhe above him, while he opens himself up for Leonard is one of the most glorious sights he's ever witnessed. Jim is gorgeous and brilliant with his electric blue eyes, witty and sharp-edged humor and this humble but radiant smile he only ever shows Leonard, but he is never more beautiful as when he is blushing with arousal, relaxed and unguarded, eyes filled with hunger and virtually glowing in the early morning light.

  
It's hard but Bones tears his eyes away from Jim in search of a condom, fumbling a bit aimlessly around the bedside table.

  
“Leave it ...,” Jim says already breathless and Bones frowns in response.  
  
  
“We've been exclusive for over six months and both our tests came back negative,” Jim reasons, and Bones feels his reserve waver, starting to see Jims' point. Has it really been this long already?  
“Please? To mark the occasion.”

  
Leonard relents easily, seeing as there really is no harm in doing so. Jim practically purrs in satisfaction. He generously slicks up Bones' cock and guides him to his hole. Leonard bends his legs to provide some leverage and pushes up into the tantalizing heat, while Jim at the same time pushes down. A string of expletives, interspersed with Bones' name falls from his lips as Bones bottoms out in one smooth motion. Leonards' hands are still on Jims' hips holding him still for a moment before he rolls his own hips upward. Jims' hands come up to Bones' chest and shoulder, supporting himself. His thighs are trembling, while he moves to meet Bones' thrusts and screws himself down on Bones' cock. He's buried balls-deep and brushes Jims' prostate on every other thrust.

  
“God, just look at you,” Leonard rumbles, his drawl more pronounced and thick like molasses. “Fuck … Jim.”

  
He throws his head back against the pillow, baring his throat in a silent invitation, which Jim follows almost instantly. He licks and bits, leaving angry red marks on the sun-kissed skin, his light stubble rubbing against Bones' jaw. He kisses his way back up, capturing Leonards' mouth. Their kiss quickly becomes a lot more uncoordinated as Leonard speeds up his thrusts to an almost punishing pace.

  
“Please, Bones,” Jim breathes, body bouncing above Leonard. God, he looks positively wrecked.

  
“I've got you darlin',“ Leonard soothes, while he shifts his hips to get a better angle on Jims' prostate and make him gasp.

  
“Please Bones …. please. I wanna come.”

  
Bones growls almost possessively and sneaks a hand down to wrap around Jims', until now, untouched cock, painfully hard and bouncing against his abdomen, smearing it with precum. He times his strokes to his thrusts and flicking his wrist just so, making Jim see stars.

That's all it takes to make Jim come with a strangled shout, spurting in thick, hot bursts over his abdomen and Lens' hand. Bones tries to work him through the aftershocks, but Jims' muscles uncontrollably contracting around him make him lose all sense of coordination. His rhythm falters as he buries himself in this tight heat, tipping him over the edge with a loud groan.  
  
Jim moans deeply as he feels Bones pulsing inside him, making him shiver violently before he finally can't hold himself upright anymore. He falls forward, resting his cheek against Bones' shoulder, whimpering slightly at the loss as Bones carefully slides out of him.

  
Strong arms come up immediately to hold him close, heedless of the fact that he must be quite heavy. Bones combs his fingers – the clean ones because does this even need any additional explanation at all? – through the short hair at Jims' nape.  
  


“How's that for a celebratory orgasm?” Jim buries deeper into the seemingly endless warmth and comfort of Bones.  
  


“Not half bad,” Leonard deadpans and Jim pinches him in the side.  
  


“Blasphemy.”  
  


Bones snorts and presses a conciliating kiss to this never silent mouth. They settle down, enjoying the afterglow for a while.

  
“You were really great yesterday. I liked our match the most in this tournament. It was mesmerizing to watch you even though I had to play myself,” Jim speaks up quietly. Leonard smiles a lazy, carefree smile.

  
“It felt amazing, too. You really bring out the best in me.”

  
“It's a bit annoying that we can't celebrate together after our matches though.” There is no blame in Jims' voice, just a lot of sulking and underneath a trace of sadness.

  
“The media storm would have apocalyptic proportions. And there is no knowing how the Federation would react to it,” Leonard reasons, but he can't deny that he understands Jim. It's not funny to hide your attraction whenever you are around people, afraid they would recognize them. And Leonard hates to hide in front of their friends too, not wanting to put them in a tight spot in case the WSF would be irked by their relationship and ban one or both of them.

  
“You are so overdramatic, Bones. I bet after a week or two they couldn't care less. And Pike wouldn't dare to sideline his best players. We pull the crowd,” Jim insists, nosing the soft skin underneath Bones' ear.

  
“Do you want them to know?” The question is carefully toneless, but Jim can hear the nervousness underneath nonetheless.

  
Jim pushes himself up on his elbows, just enough to look into those ever-changing hazel eyes.

  
“Only if you want to. I'm just saying that I don't fear the consequences, Bones. Because I know, whatever you think how severe the repercussions might be and how much we may or may not lose, you, _us_ is worth a thousand times more than that.”

  
Leonard is frozen, held in place by Jims' piercing blue gaze full of determination and trust and love, it leaves Leonard breathless. He searches for the doubt, the underlying fear of losing everything just because of him, but he can't find any.

  
“You are unbelievable, kid,” Bones sighs, but there is a smile on his lips and so much love and adoration in his eyes.

  
“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

  
“God help me, I do.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> The “Federation” is the World Snooker Federation, handy isn't it?  
> The title is based on the song Fingertips by Tom Gregory. 
> 
> I would be over the moon if someone leaves kudos or a comment. I really love this fandom and especially McKirk, so I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
